


Swap

by bigblueboxat221b



Series: Adjacent [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A range of sex toys, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anal Play, Embarrassment, M/M, Mail Order, Neighbors, Parcel Mix-up, Praise Kink, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Greg's eager to open the package that's just arrived. So eager, he doesn't even check the delivery label - after all, he is waiting on a delivery exactly like this. Once he opens it however, the contents are not exactly what he had in mind.





	1. Chapter 1

The package waiting outside his door made Greg’s heart stutter, a smile spreading over his face as he tucked it under one arm. After ordering a few times, the ‘discreet packaging’ of this particular adult website was still distinctive enough for him to recognise it when he picked it up. Thankfully Mrs Langham – the kind, elderly lady who collected packages from the postman and delivered them to the tenant’s doors – had no idea. At least he hoped she had no idea.

Greg’d been saving his pennies for a while, and it was a decent sized order. The last two times he’d ordered the shipping had cost him a bomb. Browsing the offerings – and the range was huge – Greg knew there was enough there that he wanted to justify waiting a couple of months and ordering enough to get free shipping.

He was single, after all, with a job completely unsuited to most normal social endeavours. Spending a little money on things to make himself feel good wasn’t a  _crime._  Okay, quite a bit of money, and the stuff he bought wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but wasn’t that the point of buying toys online? Nobody but him and some anonymous warehouse packer needed to know how keen he was to see the contents of this box, innocuous as it appeared to be.

All the same he was glad to collect the box and lock the door without having to stop and talk to anybody.

Dumping his keys in the bowl on the hall table, Greg was tearing open the box before he’d even shed his coat, the brown paper subtly patterned with smiley faces falling to the floor, some skittering under the table. He kicked it along to the dining table, giving himself plenty of space to examine everything. Christ, he was getting hard just thinking about what he’d ordered. A small part of his brain started constructing a scenario…would he be able to work in everything? Or should he focus on one new thing at a time?

His distraction was making it difficult to open the box, and Greg pushed his plans to the side, focusing on actually getting to the contents. Finally, the packing tape gave way, lifting from one flap and he wrenched it, impatient to get to his toys.  _Desperate much,_  a little voice in his head taunted him.  _Yeah actually,_  he told it, tossing the copy of his order form to the side without a glance.  _Pretty much._

The larger box was packed with smaller boxes, and Greg tugged at one, the matt black finish slipping a little in his fingers. He turned it over, blinking at the image on the front.

_Flexicone Prostate Stimulator XMax_

Fuck. That was not what he’d ordered. It was similar – same brand, similar name – but shaped differently. He was sure he’d chosen the  _Flexicone Booty Buddy Stimulator_  instead – he’d discovered his prostate was slightly closer than the standard seemed to be – he didn’t need the ‘extra reach’ offered by the XMax.

Placing the box to the side, Greg reached for another, his heart sinking further as he looked at the unfamiliar picture. He had definitely not ordered an app enabled vibrating cock ring; the plain silicone one in his bedside table was fine for the moment. From the look of it, this was way out of his budget, too.

With an annoyed grimace, Greg took each item from the box, a pile of frustration forming as he looked at box after box of things he had not ordered. He stared at it, wondering how such a huge error could be made. Almost nothing in here was right. A lot of things were similar; perhaps the packer was inexperienced or distracted?

The thought occurred to him to check the order form he’d discarded earlier. Greg brushed through the papers and picked up the order form where it sat with the wrapping paper. His eyes scanned the top of the sheet, brow creasing as he read the address details.

_Mycroft Holmes_

_Unit 4, 34 Sunderland Terrace_

_Bayswater W2 5PA_   

_Fuck._

That was definitely not him. He was  _Greg Lestrade, Unit 3, 34 Sunderland Terrace_. As usual the name was in tiny font, the address far larger. He had no idea why they formatted it like that, but once again, it made it difficult for Mrs. Langham to get everything to the right flat. He’d never had an issue before – sometimes he dropped other people's packages off for her, and if anything of his had gone to the wrong place it had ended up at his door eventually, with him none the wiser – but today he’d been so eager to open the package he hadn’t even looked at the address. It didn’t help that he was expecting an identical package.

_Not good._

Wherever the error had occurred, it didn’t change three things:

  1. He had a boxful of someone else’s sex toys spread all over his bench.
  2. That man lived next door.
  3. It was entirely possible that his package had been delivered next door – a direct swap – and his neighbour was in the same slightly horrifying position right now.



Automatically, Greg started repacking the box, checking each item off against the order form. Everything was there, which was small comfort, all things considered. There was no way he could return the box without Mycroft realising he’d opened the box and seen the contents.

_Fuck. Fuuuuuck._

Of course he had to be the ‘gorgeous and mysterious’ new neighbour, as opposed to the ‘not that attractive and disturbingly open’ new neighbour.

The former had barely been seen, certainly not spoken to; Greg had been looking for a reason to start a conversation, assuming he managed to actually see the man. "Hi, I accidentally opened your sex toys, don't worry I checked everything's there and by the way you have great taste," was not the kind of conversation he'd planned in his head. Not that he'd planned anything, really.

The latter was neither embarrassed nor shy about sharing her sexual preferences. Greg had been bailed up several times already for conversations more frank than he would have liked. She would not be embarrassed by Greg opening such a package of hers; Greg could simply give it to her, apologise and hope to escape quickly, lest she offer to demonstrate the contents.

Mycroft would be different. Greg only knew his name from Mrs. Langham, the unusual sound of it sticking in Greg’s brain. Greg could already feel his face heating, his brain automatically showing him scenarios in which Mycroft was using the products he’d ordered. He wasn’t even out of his own flat yet, let alone apologising to the man and his body was responding. Stop it, he told himself. You need to have this conversation like a grown up, for fuck’s sake. Don’t forget you have to ask if he opened your box by mistake.

That was the thought that made him pause. He remembered what he’d ordered, his slight blush being driven into a full bright flush at the possibility of Mycroft standing at his own kitchen table, looking speechlessly at the reversible stroker and large purple dildo complete with suction cap, wondering if Greg was intending to use them immediately (he was), and as indicated on the box (he was).

“Christ, how do I get into these spots?” Greg moaned to himself. This was not how he wanted to spend his Wednesday night. Sure, he’d hoped his order would have arrived, in which case he’d have had a shower, a couple of beers and then a blissful hour or so in bed trying out his new playthings. If someone had asked or offered, he might even have accepted some company.

Standing in the doorway of his almost-a-stranger-but-wish-you-weren’t neighbour’s flat as they exchanged packages of sex toys was not exactly what he had in mind.


	2. Chapter 2

With any luck, nobody but Mrs. Langham would know Mycroft had even received a package today. He’d remained restlessly in his flat all week anticipating the delivery, and every time he’d heard Mrs. Langham stomp slowly up the stairs, her stick an agonising counterpoint to her uneven gait, Mycroft had barely breathed.

Today, finally, she stopped outside his door for long seconds, his shallow breaths stretching into hours it seemed; surely, she was depositing a parcel on his doorstep? The footsteps sounded briefly then paused, holding Mycroft captive until she finally took off again. He forced himself to wait until she’d started down the stairs before he wrenched his door open with shaking fingers, grasping the box and whipping it inside without another glance into the corridor.

Breathing hard, he clutched his prize to his chest, back to his door. _What the hell have I done?_ There was no denying it now, now that the evidence was here, held in his own hands.

He had shopped, quiet and ashamed, the brightness of his personal computer screen turned down in the darkened room as though to better hide his secret. Mycroft had felt his cheeks heat and eyes widen at the range of items available; some were more intriguing than others. Those he guided his cursor to, reading descriptions in disbelief, watching short videos in which a rough sounding woman calmly explained exactly how to employ these tools of pleasure. He wasn’t sure why she was an expert in these items but Mycroft found himself ordering several variations of the stroker she’d demonstrated, as well as the warming lube recommended by the site; his own medical grade supply was adequate, of course, but if he was going to break, it might as well be spectacularly. Staring at the contents of his ‘cart’, Mycroft pursed his lips and without thinking too hard added two – no, three – more items, ensuring he typed his address carefully and selecting express shipping. It was bad enough he would have to endure the shame and agony of awaiting the delivery across a weekend; despite the claimed of discreet packaging, surely MYCROFT HOLMES IS ORDERING SEX TOYS, AND PERVERSE ONES AT THAT would be emblazoned on it for all to see. He entered his credit card details anyway – the prepaid card, untraceable to him, purchased months ago and, until last night, sat in his bedside table, awaiting his courage.

As it turned out it was not courage that was needed, but his boss; Mycroft had been sent on enforced leave for a little over a week as his boss dealt with a ‘personal matter’. As though Mycroft might not know exactly which matter he would be dealing with. It hurt that he might not think Mycroft’s discretion was up to the task, but Mycroft packed his personal items immediately and without comment, bidding his boss a productive week.

The whiskey and long, quiet week ahead had emboldened him that Friday night. It was the perfect opportunity to place an order – with expedited shipping it would certainly arrive while he was at home, and nobody need know he was the kind of man who ordered from such sites. And now here he stood, five days still remaining on his leave, clutching his illicit haul.

Mycroft took a deep breath, his eyes closed, avoiding the reality of actually looking at the box. Actually, this could be a good idea. He felt along the edges of the box in his hands, finding the end of the packing tape and pulling, hard. The ripping was loud; he winced but did not stop, tugging until it hit the far end of the flaps. Mycroft panted from the effort, realising he been holding his breath. He released the tape, shaking his fingers to detach it where it stuck a little. Two deeper breaths to steady himself and Mycroft pressed one hand to the opening, inching the tips of his fingers under the open fold. He could feel the smooth side of a smaller box inside, then another box and the curve of a bottle, another box...

He couldn’t do this with his eyes closed. It was ridiculous, of course. He was a grown man in the security of his own flat. The secrecy of his own flat. Blinking up at the ceiling, Mycroft allowed his eyes to adjust before lowering them, still slightly stunned at what he was holding. Without pulling the flaps open he grasped the first thing he could feel – a smallish box – and pulled it out.

Good Lord, it was bright purple. This would explain why the emphasis on discrete packaging, Mycroft thought. He focussed on the image and text…and frowned. _Silicone cock ring_ , it said. The image was simple; a black ring with small orbs studded around it.

This was not what he had ordered.

Mycroft turned the box over, his heart pounding again as he examined it. While he had ordered a similar product, Mycroft was sure he had opted for a more complex version. This box was surely too small for the item he had settled on.

The irritation of having received the wrong item made Mycroft forget his anxiety for a moment, and he took the two boxes – one larger, one smallish – further into his flat. Using the dining table, he folded back the flaps of the main package, taking each item out and examining it. While several items were similar, overall the contents were not what he had ordered. He stared at the small packages laid out over his table, blinking as his mind raced.

Was there an error at the packing facility? Certainly one person could not make so many mistakes. He should check the contents against the order confirmation. The website had assured him there would be a copy of his order included, and he could use the enclosed order number to make complaints or give feedback. Reassured, Mycroft reached into the box, finding the folded piece of paper, eyes automatically going to the address lines at the top as he opened it.

 

Greg Lestrade

Unit 3, 34 Sunderland Terrace

Bayswater W2 5PA 

 

Oh. Oh God.

This was not his package. With shaking hands Mycroft turned over the flaps of the box, closing them so he could see the delivery sticker. The address matched that on the order form. No wonder he did not recognise the contents of the box; it was not his. According to the address, it belonged to his neighbour.

A hand reached out and grasped a chair, the support under his sagging weight a relief. How on earth had there been such a mistake? The answer came to him almost before the question was formed. Mrs Langham, kindly though she was, must have made an error. When she had explained her willingness to accept packages and deliver them to his door to save him the hassle of going to the post office, Mycroft had thanked her, knowing he used his work post office box and would not need to rely on what appeared to be questionable mobility on her behalf. He had not foreseen this particular purchase, which he would never have risked being opened by security at his work.

While noting her glasses in their initial interview, Mycroft had not considered how poor her eyesight must really be. And now he was paying the price; standing in his dining area, another man’s sex toys spread across his table, his own order miss…

“Oh good Lord no…” Mycroft whispered, another mystery solved before it even formed fully in his mind. She must have swapped the packages. Greg – the handsome neighbour he had not even worked up the courage to smile at, let alone speak with. He must have possession of Mycroft’s delivery – a similar sized box, bearing almost identical ‘discrete packaging’ – the mistake was simple enough, though it now left Mycroft in a mortifying situation.

Looking down again at the paper in his hand, Mycroft noticed a membership number and tally of ‘reward points’, which meant Greg had ordered from this website before, possibly a number of times. He would recognise the box. For all their ‘discrete packaging’ promises, the smiley faces would be obvious to someone familiar with the print, especially if there had indeed been a straight swap and Greg had received Mycroft’s order. With any luck he would see the address label, realise the error and contact Mycroft with the minimum of fuss. Surely that was what people did? Ignored the accidental breach of privacy, awkwardly smiling at each other and never (NEVER) speaking of it again.

Mycroft groaned, the paper in his hand floating to the floor as he dropped his head to rest on the heels of his hands. This was a disaster. Not only did he now have intimate knowledge of his neighbour’s sexual preferences, the same (handsome) neighbour likely had the same knowledge about Mycroft. All likelihood of a relationship on any level was wiped out. There was no way Mycroft could even see himself returning Greg’s parcel without flushing and stammering like a schoolboy, let alone having a conversation of any depth. There was no way out of the mortification, unless…

With a wild surge of hope, Mycroft leapt to his feet and raced to the door, wondering if maybe, just maybe, his own package was sitting outside Greg’s door. He could collect it – it was his, after all – and deal with the other issue later.

_Please, please, please…_

He flung his door open and was brought up short at the figure standing before him.

“Oh, hi,” the figure said. He was holding a box, which he shifted awkwardly as Mycroft stared at him, feeling his mouth drop open.

“I don’t think we’ve met…I’m Greg Lestrade. Your neighbour.”


	3. Chapter 3

Greg had not expected the door to open before he’d even had a chance to knock. He wasn’t even sure he’d been going to knock, standing here on the doorstep, or if he should just drop the box, knock and run. Surely if he did that, Mycroft would follow suit and they would never need to have a conversation about it at all. But when the door had flown open and a tall man with a wild expression had almost run into him, the choice had been taken out of his hands.

 _Fuck._ Greg garbled something he hoped was a friendly greeting while the man – Mycroft, he was pretty sure – stared at him in horror. From his expression, Greg knew instantly that not only did Mycroft know why he was here, but there would be no ‘oops, sorry mate’ moment. The man looked mortified, his unusual grey eyes pleading with Greg as his mouth hung open.

“Um,” Greg started. “I think we might have…I mean, I didn’t…” he took a deep breath. Mycroft – assuming this was he – was still staring at him, and Greg knew there wouldn’t be any easing of the conversation from that side for a moment. And given that he didn’t want to ask for his personal items right here, there was only one solution.

“Look, can I come in? I don’t really want to do this in the hall.”

There was a long pause before Mycroft stood back, allowing Greg to come in. He had a brief glimpse of a stark sitting room and a dining table strewn with brightly coloured boxes before a voice stopped him in his tracks.

 

+++

 

_Oh Lord, he’s going to see…_

“Please, wait!” Mycroft blurted, slamming the door and following his visitor. To his immense relief Gregory stopped and turned. He looked a little uncomfortable, not quite meeting Mycroft’s eyes, a half smile on his face.

“We haven’t really properly met. I’m assuming you’re Mycroft Holmes?” the visitor asked.

“Yes,” Mycroft answered, his own poor manners as host bringing more shame to his already flushed face. “I apologise for not introducing myself earlier.”

“What, right now? Or since you’ve move in? Cause I’ve barely been in, don’t worry about it.” The man was relaxing, Mycroft could hear, though one hand was still anxiously gripping the box under his arm.

“I have also been working,” Mycroft murmured. This was so surreal, having this man in his home, as barely set up as he was, neither mentioning the rather large elephant in the room. “I have not had the leisure to make social calls.”

“Well, I haven’t been home, people keep getting killed,” Gregory said. From the look of horror that came over his face, he had not intended to make such a comment.

“You work in law enforcement,” Mycroft said. “I am not unfamiliar with the profession. Rest assured your humour does not bother me.”

“Yeah, sorry, it can be hard to turn off. DS with New Scotland Yard, things have been mental lately.”

“Yes,” Mycroft replied, unsure what to say. Should he offer the man tea? He would have to clear off the table to do so, precipitating their inevitable conversation. Unacceptable. A number of options presented themselves but none addressed the crucial point: avoiding the inevitable for as long as humanly possible.

Just as he had decided on a course of action, Gregory spoke.

“Look, there’s no way for this not to be weird,” he said, and Mycroft closed his eyes in mortification. _Please don’t do this._

“Are you sure?” he whispered. It was a ludicrous thing to say, he knew; the man was right. There was no escape from this hell.

 

+++

 

“Am I sure?” Greg repeated. The question was so desperate, the tone so plaintive that a rush of empathy broke through him. Mycroft had been uncomfortable since he’d asked Greg in, clearly hoping he wouldn’t notice the open box strewn across the table. His mind had been almost visible as it worked, looking for a way out. Well, now that he was here, Greg was all in. There would be no running away. The instinct that was serving him so well in his chosen profession told him if they avoided this now, Mycroft would ensure they never spoke in the future.

_Can’t go over it, can’t go around it…have to go through it._

Completely inappropriately, Greg felt laughter bubble up in him. As he looked at Mycroft’s anxious face and thought about the excruciating conversation they were about to have, he couldn’t hold it in.

_This is going to be bloody awful._

The idea was enough to let it out, and Greg found himself chuckling. “Christ Mycroft, how ridiculous is this?” He waved one hand around. “Your basic nightmare, right?”

Mycroft’s eyes were still closed, his face drawn in. “Yes,” he whispered finally.

“Just so we’re clear, I am not laughing at you,” Greg told him. It finally struck him that he was still holding the box, so he put it down on the closest chair, the open flaps popping ajar. “It’s just this whole thing.”

“Impossible to anticipate,” Mycroft agreed carefully. "Hardly a desirable scenario."

“Exactly,” Greg said. “I mean, what’s the point of discrete packaging if your landlady is going to deliver it to your neighbour?”

“Indeed,” Mycroft managed. He’d opened his eyes, Greg could see, though the flush still stained his cheeks. There was silence between them for a long moment, and Greg found himself willing Mycroft on.

_Come on. Talk to me. Help me make this less awkward._

“I’m not sure they could make a guarantee against people opening packages without reading the labels.” Mycroft’s words were hesitant, the pink deepening even as he spoke them.

“Christ, I know,” Greg replied, a broad grin still plastered on his face. “Sorry about that. Though I'm guessing you opened my order too?”

“I did. My deepest apologies,” Mycroft said. He waved one hand towards the table.

Greg made a point of looking over, then back to Mycroft. “No problem,” he said without thinking. “Well, I mean, massively mortifying for both of us, of course, but considering I did the same thing, it’s hardly something I’m going to hold against you.”

“How kind,” Mycroft murmured.

 

+++

_It’s hardly something I’m going to hold against you._

The words were almost unbelievable. How was he so calm? From his words, Mycroft understood Greg was equally mortified at this whole situation, and yet he was talking about it so easily. Laughing at the situation, to Mycroft’s amazement. It had, however, given him the courage to contribute to their conversation. And to his ongoing surprise, Greg responded well to the carefully crafted remarks.

The idea of Greg holding anything against Mycroft was…enticing. Up close he was even more handsome than Mycroft remembered from his brief glances. The slightly unshaven look suited him, silver in his hair echoed on his jaw, the unseasonal tan obviously his natural skin tone. Mycroft had assumed his eyes would be green or blue, but the brown irises had a sense of rightness about them as they studied him.

“At least I could check they got your order right,” Greg said.

“You…I beg your pardon?” Mycroft replied, frowning.

“Well at first I assumed they’d just messed up my order,” Greg said. “I mean, I just…” he coloured, to Mycroft’s relief – finally, more concrete evidence of Gregory’s discomfort.

_It’s not just me._

“If I can make an assumption,” Mycroft said, his heart in his mouth at his presumption. Greg’s relief, his encouraging smile, gave Mycroft courage to continue. “You opened the package delivered to you. When the first…item…was not what you had ordered, you examined everything.”

“Yep.”

“Might I assume you found the packing order to check if the error was yours?”

“Yeah, that’s when I saw your name and realised it was wasn’t mine.”

“As did I,” Mycroft replied. Well. That exchange certainly cleared up that matter. While the circumstances of Greg overlooking the delivery address were not clear, Mycroft was not about to offer his own explanation for that particular oversight. It seemed he and Greg had more or less done the same thing, though Greg had moved more quickly.

“Well,” Mycroft said. “I was just about to, er, repack your order…” he trailed off at Greg’s disbelieving look.

“Mmm, really?” Greg asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were about to come barrelling out the door, Mycroft. Without the package in your hand.”

To Mycroft’s horror, Greg’s head tilted, his face growing thoughtful.

_DS for Scotland Yard. Oh Lord…_

“You were going to see if your package was still sitting in front of my door.”

Mycroft’s eyes closed again as he plunged back into a sea of embarassment.

 

+++

Greg could see he was right, but the instant the words left his mouth he regretted them. He’d already been told off for blurting out his conclusions about people without considering the consequences, and now he’d done it again.

“Christ, sorry,” he muttered. “That was uncalled for. If you want to know the truth, I only really figured that out because it crossed my mind too. I hadn’t even decided if I was going to knock on your door or not.” He tried for a laugh. “Thought I might drop and run maybe.”

Mycroft did not reply, and Greg could see him breathing deeply. Probably staving off an anxiety attack, he thought. Nice job, doing that to your neighbour. Handsomer than you’d thought, excellent manners, bit on the posh side, you’ve always liked that. Not to mention the long fingers, pale skin… _I bet he’s a redhead, complete with freckles…_

Greg pulled his mind firmly out of the gutter, giving Mycroft as much space as he needed to get himself right.

“Might I offer you a cup of tea?” Mycroft asked finally.

“Actually,” Greg said, pausing, glancing again at his sex toys strewn across Mycroft’s kitchen table. “You don’t have anything stronger, do you?”


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft poured Scotch without comment, his heart pounding. He left the bottle on the bench, handing Greg one glass; before he could raise his to his lips Gregory’s was gone.

“Wow,” Gregory gasped, his empty glass hitting the bench with a heavy clank.

Astonished, Mycroft could see him blinking away tears. He raised one eyebrow, hiding his escalating pulse. “Is there a reason for…” he indicated Gregory’s empty tumbler, quite relieved the cut glass had not cracked against the granite.

“Well yeah,” Gregory said. “I kind of figured a couple of drinks might make this flow a little better.”

“Do you not think it is flowing now?” Mycroft asked, sipping his own Scotch.

"Right now it is,” Gregory shrugged. “But we’re about to swap boxes of…” he grabbed the bottle, sloshing some Scotch into his glass and throwing it back, wincing, “…sex toys.” The last two words came out on more of a wheeze, and the resulting coughing fit allowed Mycroft a moment to control himself.

Gregory was still coughing when Mycroft’s eyes settled on the bright purple box resting on his dining table. _Silicon cock ring_ , he remembered. _Maybe Gregory has a point._

As Gregory watched, he threw back his own Scotch, gasping as it hit the back of his throat. “Christ,” he muttered. The warmth ran through him with a buzz.

“Yep,” Gregory said. Without pause he picked up the bottle, said, “I hope you don’t mind,” and raised it to his lips.

Mycroft watched, knowing his mouth was hanging open as Gregory’s lips wrapped around the end of the glass. The leap was not great – from lips wrapped around glass to lips wrapped around other things, and Mycroft was suddenly breathless, his lungs screaming.

“Breathe, Mycroft.”

It was a brilliant suggestion and Mycroft suddenly found himself inhaling, air rushing through his nose, appeasing the burn of his lungs. As his eyes swam back into focus he realised Gregory was grinning at him, a glint in his amused eyes, the bottle held out to him.

“Take a swig, it’ll help. Trust me,” Gregory said.

With no logical reason behind his action, Mycroft did just that, wrapping his hand around the neck of the bottle, swallowing twice. He did not think about placing his lips where Gregory’s had been seconds earlier. He did _not._ It burned, but he mastered himself, placing the bottle back on the bench.

“I’m not an expert, but I’m guessing this is not a Scotch you’d generally drink from the bottle,” Gregory said. His voice was a little slower, a little deeper; it thrilled through Mycroft, chasing the hard edge of the alcohol as it warmed him, enhancing it.

“No,” Mycroft agreed. He could feel himself loosening with the alcohol, chasing more delicious words from his guest. “I’m not generally one to drink from the bottle at any time.”

“So I’m a bad influence, Mycroft?”

 

+++

 

Greg watched the words register with Mycroft and wondered if he’d crossed a line. He figured Mycroft would need a bit of a push to have a drink. God knew he needed one, and from the way Mycroft had reacted to their conversation so far, a drink wouldn’t hurt him either. Three drinks – or so – was about right; he could feel the Scotch warming him, easing his tense muscles, blurring out some of the embarrassment.

Mycroft had risen quite impressively to his challenge in the end, drinking from the bottle like a natural. Watching Mycroft’s mouth close around the end of the bottle was far more pornographic than Greg thought it should be. He wondered if the same idea had caused Mycroft to forget about breathing as he’d swigged the Scotch earlier. The possibility sent a thrill through Greg – perhaps his initial attraction to Mycroft was reciprocated? The success and the alcohol pushed Greg to the flirty comment, and now he waited a little uneasily for the reply.

“Well,” Mycroft said, his voice slightly blurred at the edge, “I had never ordered from a business that offered discrete packaging until I moved in here, so perhaps you are.”

Greg paused, but the slightly horrified look on Mycroft’s face confirmed what he’d said. The implication sent a second shiver of arousal through him, and Greg could feel the slow smirk cross his face. _Well, then…_ He watched Mycroft, instinct telling him exactly what the apprehensive look was for.

“Have you…is this the first time you’ve bought…this kind of thing?” The euphemisms came automatically as Greg tried to ease his question. The last thing Mycroft needed was confronting language to go with this confronting conversation.

Greg’s training and experience in reading body language were hardly necessary – Mycroft’s lowered eyes, pinker cheeks and hunched shoulders all told the same story.

When it came, Mycroft’s nod was tiny, almost shameful.

 _He thinks I’m an old hand at this._ Greg bit his lip, thinking, watching the other man practically writhe in his discomfiture. How could he put Mycroft at ease? There was more alcohol, of course, but that was hardly ideal. _You need to let him know you’re just as inexperienced. Remind him he’s not the only one cringing at this whole conversation._

“Shall I tell you about my first purchase?” Greg made the offer before he could think about it. Christ. What was he doing?

“If you…why would you do that?” Mycroft asked, bewildered, and it was a far more sensible question than Greg’s had been.

“I have no idea,” Greg replied. He laughed a little, a weak embarrassed effort. “I have no idea why I’d even offer that. Make you feel better? I mean, I’ve ordered a few times from this site, but everyone had a first time, you know?”

_First time. Sounds like you’re not talking about buying toys, now..._

The same thought might have crossed Mycroft’s mind. His eyes flicked to Greg’s, assessing before he answered. “If you’d rather not, I understand, of course.”

Greg tilted his head, wondering if the words were polite or a genuine desire not to go down this conversational path. He studied Mycroft, taking in the long fingers as they tapped restlessly against the bench. Despite Greg's best efforts, Mycroft’s face was impassive, the features smoothed out, suppressing the tells he’d allowed to show earlier. A twist of frustration tugged in Greg’s gut, _I don’t know him well enough to read him when he hides it_. He’d have to make a call on this. His heart was pounding as he weighed up the options.   

_What the hell._

“Right, well I think we’d better sit on the sofa,” Greg said. He stood carefully, waiting for the slight swirl to right itself before settling himself on the sofa.

 

+++

 

Mycroft nodded, standing, noting the change to his balance. He saw Gregory pause too and was a little relieved that the effect of the alcohol was evident in both of them. When Gregory had seated himself Mycroft followed on the other end of the sofa, hoping it wasn’t too presumptuous. More than his balance, this was the effect of so much Scotch in such a short time; while he was wondering about the forwardness of sitting on the same sofa, he was still doing it.

“Right,” Gregory said, settling himself more comfortably. “Well I guess the very first purchase wasn’t really a purchase. I had a bit of a rough period when I was younger. Thought it was funny to pinch stuff. We’d go into adult shops and pinch little bottles of lube, stupid novelty toys, that kind of thing.”

Mycroft nodded, but didn’t speak. As he watched Gregory think, the man pulled his lower lip between his teeth. Mycroft felt his breath stutter at the vision and the rush of blood in his ears eclipsed all other sound for a moment. He could see Gregory’s teeth release his lip, the plump tissue sliding out as the narrative continued. Mycroft fought to listen over his own pounding heart. _Good Lord…_

“I guess my first proper purchase was a few months ago.”

Mycroft felt his eyebrows rise. He’d assumed Gregory had been an experienced customer. _Not as seasoned as I imagined, then._

“Got married pretty young. She wasn’t into trying new things, so we never did. But now that I’m not seeing anyone, I decided to try some things.”

Mycroft’s mind skittered over the items in Gregory’s order. He couldn’t process it, and Gregory was still speaking. “So my first order was smaller. Just a couple of things.” He snorted, a frankly adorable sound, and said, “I was half worried someone I knew would see the order. Like it might have my name and the words ‘sex toys’ plastered all over it. I had no idea how Mrs Langham would say to that.”

“Indeed,” Mycroft murmured, some of his remaining anxiety easing further. Gregory had been anxious when he first ordered too. He’d worried about the packaging giving him away, just as Mycroft had. _Like me._

“What…” Mycroft found himself speaking before he could think. “What did you…” he stopped, frustrated. “I noticed some similarities between what I ordered and…” he waved one hand towards the table, his extensive vocabulary failing him.

“Yeah,” Gregory said quietly. “Me too.” He rubbed at his neck. “I started smaller, I guess. Fancy lube, a couple of…toys. Fun things to play with. By myself.”

Mycroft swallowed, curiosity burning in him.


	5. Chapter 5

The sight of Mycroft’s throat bobbing as he swallowed was mesmerising, and Greg found himself mimicking it. He didn’t think Mycroft had moved at all, but now there was something about him, a new awareness, perhaps? Greg might have been imagining it but it seemed as though Mycroft was practically vibrating with repressed energy. Had his admission excited Mycroft? It had always seemed a little embarrassing, a little pathetic in his head - a grown man buying sex toys instead of going out and finding a partner. From the way things were going, though, Mycroft didn’t view it the same way. He was still here, at least, and looking more than a little interested. 

_ I hope that means he’s keen. Don’t rush it, take it slow... _

“D’you want to come and look with me?” Geez, he genuinely had no control over his mouth today. Good thing they’d stopped drinking when they had. It was moving things along, that was true, but Greg was still worried he would say the wrong thing, spook Mycroft. Bring this whole arrangement, tentative as it was, crashing down on their heads.

Wide grey eyes grew even wider as slowly, Mycroft nodded.

“C’mon then,” Greg said, leaning forward and offering his hand. Cool fingers slid tentatively against his and he smiled, head swirling a little at Mycroft’s touch. Greg curled his fingers and stood, tugging Mycroft to his feet. They were still standing at opposite ends of the couch, and as much as Greg wanted to pull Mycroft in closer, to breathe in the scent of him, he sensed it needed to be taken slow.

Turning, Greg walked over to the dining table, the spread of his own order across the pale wood making his heart skip a beat. Christ, he’d forgotten a couple of things here. There were definitely more boxes than he’d expected. As his eyes flickered over the brightly coloured boxed – fluorescent and matte black seemed to be the trend – Greg felt Mycroft step hesitantly beside him.

“So,” Greg said, clearing his throat. Mycroft’s fingers gripped his, and Greg glanced sideways. The flush of his cheeks was deep, almost red, and Mycroft’s mouth hung open. 

_ Fuck, he’s gorgeous. _

The pool of heat in his groin intensified as Greg’s mind filled with Mycroft, shuffling for space with the thoughts about the sex toys now right in front of him. The logical combination of the two was potent, plumping out his cock despite his best efforts to keep it under control.

“So,” Greg said again, picking up a box at random. He had no idea what was in it at first glance but it was small so at least it wouldn’t be one of the more confronting items. Turning the box over he recognised the egg shaped logo and huffed a sigh of relief. This was pretty tame, and he knew he’d seen the same logo on one of the boxes in Mycroft’s order.  _ At least we have this one in common. Shouldn’t freak him out too much. _

“D’you recognise this?” Greg asked, turning to Mycroft and passing the box over.

A shaky hand came out, taking the box, avoiding Greg’s fingers. He watched as Mycroft’s eyes roved over the box, widening as he recognised the logo.

“Yes,” Mycroft said carefully. 

Greg wondered if the alcohol was making Mycroft feel calmer or less in control. Best take it slow. “You ordered a few, I think,” Greg said, keeping his voice calm and low. “I’ve bought a few myself.” 

Mycroft’s eyes darted over to Greg and he nodded, still turning the box around nervously, his fingers restless.

“This one…” Mycroft stopped, then started again, “It’s blue.”

Greg shrugged. “I liked the box. I haven’t got that one.”

“What do you mean?” Mycroft was obviously puzzled, and in his confusion he turned to look at Greg, grey eyes meeting brown.

“I ordered a set, and they had different colours on the egg, and different textures and stuff inside.” He gestured to the egg Mycroft still held. “I couldn’t remember which colours I had, but I know I didn’t have a blue one.”

Mycroft pressed his lips together but didn’t say anything.

“What?” Greg asked. “I can see you want to say something.”

The pause was awkward and the words flew out of Mycroft’s mouth. “I’m not sure this egg is actually blue,” he said, his face reddening again. “The description says it comes with…ice lubricant. And it’s translucent.”

“Translucent?” Greg repeated, frowning.

“Yes,” Mycroft replied. His fingers twitched, and he said in a rush, “Apparently you can see through it. When you’re…using it.”

“Right,” Greg replied. 

The idea of using the egg with Mycroft rose in his mind and Greg swallowed hard. He could see his fingers and Mycroft’s intertwined, stroking slowly up and down his cock, waves of pleasure breaking over him, Mycroft’s moans hot in his ear. If this egg was translucent they’d be able to see the colour of his cock through it as the silicon stretched down his shaft, flushed dark red as their hands moved. His heart stuttered, his whole body trembling at the thought. Christ, he was in this deep.  _ Be careful. _

“I didn’t realise that,” Greg said. With a deep breath and cheeky grin to cover his racing heart he said, “Let’s have a look, then.” 

Gently he took the box from Mycroft, moving slowly in case there was any opposition. There wasn’t, and he slid the egg out, dropping the box on the table as his fingers closed around the rigid plastic case. Sure enough, the shrink wrap was blue, unlike those he’d bought last time. Greg peeled it open then looked up. 

Mycroft was watching him intently, an almost fearful look on his face. He was obviously aroused, his face openly displaying his interest. Greg could see the apprehension behind it, a shadow of doubt clouding the grey eyes.

“D’you want to do the honours?” Greg asked.

Mycroft hesitated before he took the egg, twisting it open. The halves came apart unexpectedly easily and the contents dropped out between them. Neither had reflexes fast enough to catch it and it fell, bouncing a little on the floorboards. Greg’s eyes watched as it finally came to a rest, sitting there squat and round and wobbling slightly on the hard floor.

Mycroft hadn’t moved, and they both stared for a moment at the fat ball still jiggling between them.  _ Oops, _ Greg’s slightly sluggish brain supplied. His body was frozen, hoping they hadn’t reached the threshold for Mycroft’s embarrassment.

He was considering what to say to alleviate the awkwardness and retrieve the egg, but before he could move, Mycroft was dropping and Greg wondered for a fleeting second if he had passed out. 

It took a second for Greg to see that Mycroft was kneeling to pick up the soft blob, the plastic halves of the shell discarded on the table. One pale hand held onto the table for balance, the other wrapping around the silicon. The position – one man kneeling before the other – was enough for Greg’s cock to pulse hard and defiantly, filling out almost completely in the three seconds between Mycroft moving and him realising their respective positions.

“See, I told…” Mycroft began, looking up, before meeting Greg’s eyes and trailing off. 

Greg could see his confusion shift into understanding and then the smoulder of arousal he could not hide. They stayed there, neither moving for a long second. Greg knew his own desire was written all over his face; how could he not be thinking about it, with Mycroft on the floor before him, holding one of those bloody eggs in his hand? Before his brain could come up with something to say Mycroft’s eyes drifted down to the bulge in Greg’s pants right in front of his face. It gave Greg’s body the jolt it needed to firm out the rest of his erection. There was no way Mycroft could miss it; hell, Greg could almost feel the hot breath as he panted mere centimetres away.

“Er, yeah,” Greg said finally, his voice rough and strained. “It’s see through.”

“It is,” Mycroft replied, slowly raising his body until they were standing toe to toe. He seemed more settled, Greg thought, less nervous.  _ Has he really only just realised how turned on I am by all this? _

“I think I bought a bottle of the ice lube, actually,” Greg said, turned away from what was fast becoming a loaded moment. “And the heated stuff.” He scanned the table, feeling thrown off balance by the shift in dynamic.

“Had you…did you buy that one last time?” Mycroft asked as Greg located the bottles. His words were stilted, but Greg noticed the fiddling had stopped.  _ Hmmm.  _

“This one I did,” Greg said, tapping the bottle labelled ‘warming personal gel’. “Used it up, thought I should get some more.”

“Ah,” Mycroft managed, turning the bottle to better see the label. 

Greg cocked his head, trying to figure out the man in front of him.  _ Not comfortable talking about the toys and stuff _ , that was a given. Greg was still a little surprised they’d gotten this far. Based on the look he’d given Greg immediately after standing up, though, Mycroft was aware enough to recognise the atmosphere change between them, and might even have acted on it if Greg hadn’t turned away.  _ Not completely inexperienced then. Good. _

“What else have I got here?” Greg mused to himself. The scotch was still doing its thing, warming his blood a little, emboldening him, especially now that he knew Mycroft was interested, and that Mycroft knew he was interested right back. It was a bit complicated, though it all boiled down to one thing: they both knew sex was on the table, but neither had said it yet.

“Oh I think you bought the fancy version of this?” Greg said, spying the cock ring. He nodded to himself, remembering the complicated version he’d opened in his own flat. “Yeah, mine vibrates but I think yours has an app or something?”

He flicked a glance over at Mycroft, who nodded, eyes jumping back and forth.  _ Nervous about these. _

“That could be interesting,” Greg told him.

“Yes, I thought perhaps…” Mycroft trailed off. “It might,” he finished, and Greg had the distinct impression that he was not intending to finish the sentence that way.

“It would keep your hands free for other things,” Greg mused aloud. 

“I had thought the same thing,” Mycroft agreed, his words carefully neutral.

“Or,” Greg added, a smirk crossing his face, “you could give control of it to someone else.”

Mycroft’s mouth opened, then closed again. He nodded without looking at Greg, and Greg allowed the silence to carry. He wondered if the idea had occurred to Mycroft before right now.


	6. Chapter 6

Much as he wanted to respond to Gregory’s comment, Mycroft’s mouth was not a priority for his brain. His body’s alarming reaction to the casual words had rendered him well and truly speechless. Apart from the dryness of his mouth and the frantic pace of his heart, the uncomfortable pressure in his trousers was almost impossible to ignore. He could not believe their conversation had progressed thus far. He was standing in his flat discussing potential uses for the slightly ridiculous sex toy he had purchased. Potential uses that involved another person. If he was reading Gregory correctly, the man was interested. Just about offering, Mycroft thought in a daze.

All this after he’d knelt on the floor in front of Greg when that egg had practically jumped out of his hand onto the floor. It had taken a second for him to recognise the suggestive pose they’d found themselves in, but when he’d looked up and seen Greg’s eyes, dark and intense…it had taken all his self-control not to swallow hard right there and then. Try as he might he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming lower, settling on the clearly distorted fabric right in front of his eyes. The sight of Greg’s trousers in such a condition had made him dizzy. It was a good thing they’d stopped drinking when they had. Still, words rose in his head, their shape unfamiliar but tantalising.

_ He wants me. _

_ Or the sex talk is ramping him up.  _

But the look on Gregory’s face was not to be ignored, and Mycroft had to admit it was compelling evidence. His own cock, not entirely flaccid since they’d stood up from the couch, had twitched at the idea, immediately filling out in sympathy or preparation, Mycroft didn’t know. 

“Are you…what are you suggesting?” Mycroft asked now, pushing himself to speak the question. Sex talk in general, while uncomfortable for his lack of experience, was not impossible, but he had never conducted a conversation with someone as breathtakingly attractive as Gregory. Nor had toys been so explicitly discussed; it made him feel more vulnerable, somehow, that preferences in this arena were more personal than less enhanced sex acts.  _ What about when he finds out that I… _

Gregory’s eyebrows had risen at Mycroft’s question and he could see the surprise flit across his tanned face.

“I’m just pointing out,” Greg said, and there was consideration behind his words, “that if you found someone you trusted, this could be fun. For both parties.”

“I see,” Mycroft replied. Was that an offer? He swallowed, pulling his eyes back to survey the table. He was not going to ask; it would be too mortifying if he was wrong. While it was clear Gregory was attracted to him Mycroft did not know him well enough yet to understand how his mind worked.

“Were you planning on including a partner?” Mycroft asked determinedly, ignoring his overly warm neck. His pale skin would be pink, he knew; it was the bane of his existence and gave away his discomfort without prejudice.

“Not when I ordered this stuff,” Gregory replied, his words heavy with meaning. 

“And now?” Mycroft shot back before he could think, turning to look at Gregory with reckless abandon.

“Now,” Gregory murmured. “Well that would depend.”

“On if the other person was interested in using these items,” Mycroft stated.

“Yes,” Gregory said, the surprise at Mycroft’s response evident in his tone. 

Mycroft felt a surge of adrenalin as he pushed the conversation. This might be the only chance he had to do this. He felt a little lightheaded, a little removed from his body as though someone else was in charge of his mouth. Someone less anxious, less worried about what people would think. It might have been the scotch, or the immediacy of the situation, or his sudden decision to take this opportunity, his pounding heart be damned.

“Like this, for example.” Mycroft picked up a larger box, longer and wider than the egg. An image of a large purple dildo was on the side, a banner proclaiming, ‘detachable suction cap!’ along the end. His pulse was loud in his ears but the hitch of Gregory’s breath still audible.

He risked looking up, meeting brown eyes made dark with desire. Intellectually he knew Gregory had ordered this for a reason, but seeing the excitement it generated in him was another matter altogether. The brief image his brain had conjured earlier when he’d thought about Gregory ordering was nothing compared to this; the wide eyes, hooded and dark, mouth soft and not quite closed, almost panting as he took in Mycroft’s fingers holding the box before him.

“Mmmm,” Gregory hummed, taking the box from Mycroft, his fingers tracing fire as they lingered along Mycroft’s skin. Mycroft felt his fingers flex under Gregory’s touch. “I should have managed on my own,” Gregory added, “eventually.” 

“Eventually?” Mycroft whispered. He’d already pictured Gregory working himself open in preparation to sink himself down on it, or perhaps back against a wall. Questions swirled in Mycroft’s mind – indecent thoughts about anyone, let alone his neighbour. Did he own similar toys? Smaller ones, and this was a move up? Or was this his first, an ambitious leap into this particular arena?

“This particular…item,” Gregory said, stressing the last word, “I think I was quite ambitious when I ordered it.” His eyes grew challenging. “I’d need some help if I was going to use this one right away.”

Mycroft felt his heart stutter at the implication, the challenge there. Before he could think, his mouth opened of its own accord.  _ Blame the scotch if you must. _

“I would say it depends on what kind of help you were looking for.”

“What?” Gregory said, clearly confused.

Mycroft’s mouth moved again, though no sound emerged. He took a deep breath and said, “It would depend…on what…role your other person would be…willing to play.”

Gregory’s eyes were still clouded, and Mycroft’s initial boldness was rapidly unravelling in the face of Gregory’s uncertainty.  _ I’m going to have to be explicit. Good Lord. We should not have stopped drinking. _

Mycroft took a deep breath in place of the scotch for which he suddenly yearned, closed his eyes and said in a rush, “You might be able to put your new purchase to immediate use if your companion was amenable to…” he trailed off, his courage failing him along with his speech.  _ I cannot say it. Please don’t make me find the words. _

Thankfully – or not, depending on his wildly swinging perspective – Gregory appeared to understand.

“You mean…” he too trailed off, staring with wide eyes at Mycroft, disbelieving and aroused.

Mycroft nodded, hesitant now. Gregory’s next words were low and urgent.

“I think I’d like to take you to bed, Mycroft Holmes.”

Mycroft felt his breath quicken and he nodded again, a shudder rippling through him. It affected every part it touched – tightening his nipples, twitching his cock, standing the hairs on the back of his neck.

_ Good Lord. _

“I’ll bring a selection of things, what do you say?” Greg picked up the long box and the warming gel he’d touched earlier, turning to look at Mycroft. The questioning look was softer now, and Mycroft had the distinct impression he was being offered an out – on the toys and the whole thing in general.

_ Take this opportunity. He is not one to laugh or misunderstand. He wants this. He wants  _ **_you_ ** _. _

Mycroft did not – could not – speak, instead carefully picking up the soft egg without looking at Greg, cradling it carefully in one hand.  _ Holy shit. Am I really doing this? _ He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the silicon wobbling gently in his palm, unable to move.

Greg’s voice was quiet, still low but now warm and comforting. “We don’t have to…”

Mycroft nodded, frowning a little as he worked through the sudden mess in his head. “I’m not…this is not…” he took a deep breath, still looking at the egg. Such a remarkable invention, he thought distractedly. “I have very little experience with these…items,” he said, the thoughts about the egg allowing him to speak without freezing up with anxiety.

“But the…this is something you’d want to…”

Mycroft nodded, still looking at the egg. “I do do that,” he whispered. “With the…” he waved one hand towards Greg. He could see Gregory frowning, look down at his own hands and the boxes within. Mycroft mentally counted down three seconds before Gregory’s eyes widened as he understood.

“You mean…”

Suddenly the carefully trailed off sentences and avoided words grated on Mycroft. He spoke without thinking, desperate to make himself clear so they could move on to whatever all this was building towards.

“Gregory.” 

Mycroft turned to Gregory, gripping the egg tight enough that he felt it start to slide in his fist. “I placed this order because I was no longer satisfied using my fingers to stimulate my prostate. To be agonisingly clear, Gregory, I would be very interested in you using this in me, and I believe we could comfortably achieve that tonight.”

His face was tingling as he fought to breathe deeply after his impromptu and completely mortifying speech. The egg slipped out of his grip as he squeezed a little tighter, finally finding Gregory’s face, his breathing shallow with apprehension. Had he gone too far? Broken the delicate balance of their understanding with his vulgar words?

Unbelievably, the slack look of shock on Gregory’s face was replaced with a hunger Mycroft had never seen directed towards him. Gregory stepped forward, still clutching the lube and the other box.  _ Dildo _ , Mycroft forced himself to think, eyes flicking down to it and back up to sink into the deep brown eyes pinned to his.

“Excellent,” Gregory said, his mouth breaking into a grin, words breathless. “If you wouldn’t mind I’d rather like to kiss you now.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your patience, dear readers. I know this chapter has been a long time coming (pun totally intended), but I wanted it to be right. Hopefully you'll agree that this is the ending these two deserve after the angst they've gone through to get here.  
> A shoutout to lmirandas who beta'd a few chapters in there - please consider this a birthday present, my dear. <3

Mycroft could feel a part of his mind floating away – the considered, cautious part, drifting apart from the rest of him as he stared at the man he’d met less than an hour ago. The man who had quite calmly invited him to bed and picked up an armload of sex toys, for that matter.

Swallowing hard, Mycroft realised he’d missed what Gregory had said. “The bedroom is…through that door,” he said.

A faint frown fluttered over Gregory’s face but he nodded, turning to lead the way.

Mycroft followed, still dazed, only the throbbing of his full cock reminding him that yes, he had offered – asked even – to take Gregory’s dildo. It was far larger than he would have had the courage to buy but the idea was not entirely terrifying. Certainly, with patience and plenty of lubrication it would be possible…

He came back to reality with a jolt. Gregory was standing beside the bed, boxes stacked neatly on the bedside table. He looked nervous for the first time, Mycroft noted, placing the egg he still cradled on the opposite bedside table, lowering his eyes as he retrieved the pump bottle of lube he kept in the drawer. Until today, his only sex toy.

“You still with me?” Gregory’s voice was soft across the smoothly made bed.

“I am,” Mycroft replied, amazed he did not sound more nervous.

“I mean, just ‘cause we talked about doing stuff out there,” Greg waved one hand towards the living space, “doesn’t mean it has to happen.”

“Yes, thank you,” Mycroft murmured. The scotch was still flowing through his veins, and he took the burst of courage to add, “My experience with…partners…is limited.” He looked up, bracing for pity, surprised to find none in the dark eyes.

“Mine is pretty limited with men,” Greg admitted.

Mycroft was relieved to see a slight flush at the admission. Not entirely at ease. Thank goodness.

 

+++

 

Greg had no idea how they’d ended up standing on opposite sides of the perfectly made bed, but it felt like a barrier. Mycroft had brushed off his request to kiss earlier, instead pointing out the bedroom, and Greg didn’t know if he didn’t do kissing, or maybe he saw this as an educational opportunity? Much as Greg felt like this might be more than a quick, slightly kinky fuck, he had no idea how Mycroft saw it. The guy was too good at hiding what he was thinking.

“Why don’t I grab a couple more of those eggs and we can start there?” Greg suggested. “Just, you know, on ourselves, if you want.”

_Christ this is hard to talk about._

He ducked out, scrabbling through the boxes until he found the familiar logo. When he returned the duvet had been folded down and Mycroft was kneeling under the sheet. A glance showed Greg trousers and shirt hung neatly beside the bed; the man must have undressed in record time. And he was possibly naked.

Any flagging of his erection was reversed with that idea, and Greg found himself tossing the boxes on the bed and reaching for his own clothes. He made an effort to fold them, though his shaking fingers would not entirely comply and the pile wasn’t all that neat.

“I think only that blue one is mine,” Greg said, hoping some kind of conversation would alleviate at least some of the awkwardness now that they were sitting in bed together in the middle of the afternoon with a pile of sex toys and a pair of raging hard-ons.

“I believe so,” Mycroft agreed. He picked the egg up off the bedside table and handed it over. “I feel bound to remind you, it’s not blue.”

“You know what I mean,” Greg replied, tugging the packet of lube out from inside the egg. He motioned to the boxes on the bed. “You going to choose one?”

Mycroft flushed and looked over the boxes, peering at each self-consciously. “What is…I can see the difference, however I am not sure…”

“It’s kind of hard to describe,” Greg said. “They’re different, the texture’s different, but,” he huffed a laugh, “I wouldn’t _not_ recommend any of them. They’re pretty amazing. I get the feeling it’s just preference. Technique maybe, or if you want to make it last. Or not.” He gave a self-conscious grin.

Mycroft was looking at the boxes but Greg had the impression he was listening hard. “Ah,” he said. His face coloured, but he selected a box. “Considering the…potential activities we had discussed,” his face flamed and he glanced at the long box sitting behind Greg, “perhaps this would be a good choice. To ensure…longevity.”

Greg felt his mouth drop open – Christ, Mycroft was still interested in…wow, okay then – and forced himself to look down at the gently ridged egg in Mycroft’s hand.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding strangled, “good plan.”

He watched Mycroft take the egg out of the box, opening the plastic container carefully, turning over the gently wobbling egg to retrieve the sachet of lube. Those fingers, Greg thought, watching them stroke over the smoothness of the egg. He’s nervous still. Of course he is, this is a completely ridiculous thing to be doing at half five on a Wednesday afternoon.

“Mycroft,” Greg said suddenly, and the urgency in his voice must have been evident because Mycroft looked up, eyes questioning. Greg’s cock pulsed just looking into those eyes – grey as the sky on a winter’s day, and he swallowed, trailing his eyes down Mycroft’s chest, dredging up words to describe the gloriously touchable skin and failing miserably.

“Just so we’re clear here,” his heart was beating so hard he thought he should raise his voice to be heard over it, “this isn’t just…I mean, it’s not really something I’d do. Generally. But if I’m going to be honest you’re pretty bloody gorgeous, and the idea of us, and that box of toys…” Greg trailed off, his own failing vocabulary frustrating him.

“Two boxes,” Mycroft said, and his deeper voice sent a bolt through Greg. “Two boxes of toys, yours and mine.” He swallowed, perhaps mimicking Greg, perhaps not. “I would not have offered…asked what I did if you were not also remarkably attractive.”

“I want to touch you,” Greg whispered. They were still sitting on opposite sides of the bed, turned towards each other but covered by the sheet, as well as a single sheet is capable of covering two impressive erections.

“Yes,” Mycroft said immediately. “I want you to…help me. With the…toys.” Emboldened, he leaned past Greg, the sheet falling away as he picked up the box containing the purple dildo and placed it on the pillow behind Greg. “With this.”

 _Jesus_. Greg wished his vision could have closed captions because the sight of the pristine white sheet slipping off Mycroft and catching on the head of his swollen cock whited out any other sound from his ears. He presumed it had something to do with the dildo Mycroft had picked up – also not helping him function – and now he could think of only one thing.

“I want to kiss you now,” Greg said. He pulled the sheet away from himself, noting Mycroft’s own glance downwards, the open mouth at the sight of Greg’s cock standing out from his lap. “Christ this is not how I usually do things…do you have any condoms? I mean, I’m clean, it’s been an embarrassingly long time and I’ve been tested a few times, but…”

“I have had very little sexual contact,” Mycroft said, his words coming automatically, eyes still locked on Greg’s cock. “Any potentially infectious contacts have been tested, as have I.” He dragged his eyes back up Greg’s chest to his face. “I’m clean.” His mouth quirked a little. “And I have no condoms. If you wish to get dressed and leave to purchase some, I will understand.”

Greg stared for a second before realising this was probably a joke. Maybe. Either way, his answer was clear as hell.

“No,” he said, a small part of his brain warning him about this rash decision. His instincts had rarely steered him wrong, though, and he had already pegged Mycroft as a careful man, truthful with important matters.

Without another thought he leaned forward, kissing Mycroft hard, shuffling forward on his knees. He’d barely made contact when he felt Mycroft moving toward him. Hands on his skin, knees sliding past until Mycroft was practically sitting in his lap, straddling him, kissing as deeply as Greg, all tongue and lips and teeth, God the teeth…

As Greg shifted, his cock rubbed against something, something that felt amazing, and he groaned, bucking up, seeking friction. Mycroft’s body responded, pressing forward and their precarious balance was disrupted. Greg fell back onto the bed, Mycroft landing on top of him, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

For a breathless moment, neither moved, eyes locked together.

 

+++

 

Mycroft blinked, looking down on Gregory, wondering what had happened.

They’d talked, Gregory looking increasingly delectable, until Mycroft recklessly moved past him, not even caring that the sheet dropped away, exposing his arousal.

Gregory kissed him.

Mycroft saw it coming and met him halfway, and that’s where his memories became fuzzy, more sensory than acutely factual. They were kissing, and he could feel the muscles moving under Gregory’s skin, warm and powerful, then something pressed against him, under his balls and he felt his hips move, then he was falling…

And now they were here. He was sprawled over Gregory, cock pressed between his own stomach and some part of Gregory that was warm and felt like it would be delicious to rut against. Was he allowed to do that? Or would it be poor manners?

“If we’re going to try any of this stuff out we probably should get to it,” Gregory panted, and Mycroft’s anxiety eased.

“Of course,” he said, scrambling to get off Gregory, unsure where they stood.

When he reached for the egg he’d selected, only to have it gently taken away, Mycroft frowned, looking over at Gregory.

“How about I show you how this one works?” he said. It was the look on his face – aroused and cheeky, that told Mycroft what he was planning. “Sit back, I’ll show you…”

Mycroft scooted back, pressing his bare back against the cool wood of the headboard as Gregory deftly filled the egg with lubricant, spreading it liberally around the lip of the opening as he went.

“Now,” Gregory said, that grin on his face again, the one that made Mycroft wonder what devilish things he was thinking and if they related to him at all, “first thing is definitely to slick yourself up first. In case you missed a bit on the egg.”

“Voice of exper-oh!” Mycroft groaned as Gregory’s fist encircled him, spreading wetness slowly down his cock. One long slow slide, fist tight from tip to root and back. His fingers gripped the sheets as he felt Gregory settle in next to him, cock pressing into his hip as he touched Mycroft achingly slowly.

“Now the egg…do you want to see this, Mycroft?” Gregory’s voice was teasing but there was a rough edge to it. The desire on his face was clear as Mycroft opened his eyes to see the egg in Gregory’s hand, waiting for him.

Mycroft leaned over, kissing Gregory hard, encircling his hand and bringing it to the tip of his cock.

“Together,” Mycroft whispered, gratified to feel the cock pressed into his hip pulse at the suggestion. He allowed Gregory’s fingers to stretch the egg, fitting it over the head of his cock. The sensation was odd, to say the least, but the pressure was pleasurable.

“Show me,” Gregory urged him. “Show me how you like it.”

Mycroft gasped, fingers tightening a little before making a light stroke, short, caressing just the head. “Fuck,” he gasped, jack-knifing forward. He could feel the ridges inside pressing against his skin as the smooth, elastic parts slid smoothly over him. Again he tried, a little more firmly, more prepared for the feel of it this time. Mycroft kept his hand moving slowly, short movements and _slow_ , adjusting his mind to _I’m doing this with a sex toy_ and _I’m doing this with someone else_ in equal parts.

“God,” Gregory’s voice was practically a groan in his ear, hot breath and gravelly tones.

Mycroft felt a kiss on his shoulder, the scrape of stubble electrifying his skin, adding to the sensations swirling around his body. His hand – and Gregory’s was moving steadily now, taking more of his shaft on every pass, though he was managing to keep his hips still. By now he would generally be using his other hand to tease behind his testicles, but Gregory did not know that, and Mycroft could not be disappointed if this was the only thing they explored together today. For some reason in his mind, this was a first time, not an only time.

He set that thought away, concentrating instead on the steady pooling in his pelvis, the increasing frustration of knowing he wanted more, the unfamiliar sense of having someone there, watching him. It was more arousing that he would have thought, especially as Gregory appeared to be enjoying this as much as he was.

 

+++

 

This was probably the hottest thing Greg had ever experienced in his life, and he’d had a threesome with two women - his wife’s one and only foray into ‘exploring’. Granted, it had been a pretty terrible threesome, but wasn’t that supposed to be the pinnacle of sexual experience?

But here he was, helping another bloke jack himself off with a silicone egg and he was just about ready to come just from the noises he was making. Christ, if they didn’t get any further than this today – didn’t even consider the dildo – Greg would leave a happy man. He was kind of hoping, after that incredible kiss earlier, that they’d have a few more days like this in their future, but he wasn’t going to interrupt to see how Mycroft felt about it.

Not when he was whimpering like that.

The sound was almost hypnotic, when coupled with the slow movement of their hands. Greg was just along for the ride on that front, letting Mycroft set the pace, allowing him to grip as tight or as loose as he liked. It gave Greg space to watch him, all of him; toes curling into the mattress, one leg flexing a little every now and again, when the stroke went a little deeper; the flush now colouring his chest pink, highlighting the freckles that blended into the normally white skin.

“Christ,” Greg whispered, not wanting to distract Mycroft. His cock was pressing into Mycroft’s hip and he was fighting the urge to rut against it. As it was he was leaking, clear liquid rolling down the underside of his skin and pooling where he rested against Mycroft. Instead he pressed a kiss into Mycroft’s shoulder, unable to resist scraping his teeth along the roundness at the top of his bicep.

“Gregory,” Mycroft groaned.

“Fuck, you’re hot to watch,” Greg blurted. “Hand on your cock like that…don’t stop…show me what you usually do.”

Mycroft let out another groan this time, and it sounded different, less aroused and more frustrated. His hand slowed, gripping hard for a second before stopping.

Confused, Greg turned to look at him, searching his face. Had he done something wrong?

“I want to…” Mycroft started, panting, looking at Greg with an almost desperate expression.

“Whatever you want,” Greg replied, pulling his fingers up to lace with Mycroft’s, squeezing hard.

“I’m going to…fingers. First.” Mycroft gripped back and Greg groaned.

“Your fingers are longer, I prob’ly can’t even reach,” Greg said. Plus he might come right there if he had to listen to Mycroft react to having Greg’s fingers inside him.

“Yours are wider. Better for preparing,” Mycroft said, the words tumbling out, embarrassment and arousal working against each other.

“Fuck. Fine. You first,” Greg said. He had no idea exactly how this was going to go but Mycroft sounded determined and that in itself was ramping him up. _Christ, you’re gone on this bloke_ , his brain pointed out.

 _Fuck. Off._ Greg told it pointedly.

Mycroft rolled onto his knees, leaving the egg on the end of his cock and reaching for his own lube. “I am not sure about the warming gel in this situation,” he said to Greg.

“Yeah,” Greg agreed. He’d knelt up too, unsure what Mycroft wanted him to do, or not do; he’d wait for the moment, hands in fists on his thighs, fighting not to finish himself off just at the sight of Mycroft, long fingers slicked up, thighs parting as he reached down behind his balls.

 

+++

 

“Gregory,” Mycroft groaned, a fresh rush flowing over him as his finger probed around his entrance. This was what he wanted. Opening his eyes he watched Gregory, clenched hands trying not to touch, either himself or Mycroft, it was hard to tell. Either way, the cool patch on Mycroft’s hip and wetness on Gregory’s cock told a very clear tale of repressed arousal.

“Touch me,” Mycroft whispered, easing one finger into himself. He’d had precious little else to do or think about as he waited at home for his delivery to arrive, and his body was still a little lax from the previous night.

Gregory shifted forward, hesitating, so Mycroft took his hand, guiding it to the egg still nestled around his cock. “Slow,” he gasped at the pressure. “Slow. Not too tight. Yes. Oh, God…”

He threw his head back, Gregory’s fist on his cock a perfect way to keep himself restlessly close without any danger of accidentally tipping over.

It had been Gregory’s words, whispered into his skin, telling him how exciting he was to watch, that had changed his mind. He wanted to be seen. He wanted to take that dildo, and he wanted Gregory to watch.

He was too aroused to be embarrassed. A gloriously attractive man had one hand on his cock and a desperately hard erection of his own as evidence he was turned on. Mycroft was not going to argue with that or waste this opportunity. Groaning, he edged the tip of a second finger into himself.

“Two,” he whispered, watching Gregory’s eyes flutter at the news.

A thrill of triumph was followed by a reckless idea born of this new discovery. The evidence suggested he was quite an exhibitionist, so it only made sense…

Mycroft removed his fingers, wincing a little at the emptiness. Gregory stopped, and Mycroft’s fist closed over his, holding it there as he wiggled around.

“Can you see?” Mycroft asked breathlessly. He had rolled over, leaning on his folded arm, arse pointing into the air. Greg was still holding him, but had moved too, sitting beside one leg. His fingers clenched of their own accord and Mycroft saw him tilt his head to the side.

“Here,” Greg whispered, his lips suddenly pressing to the round of Mycroft’s arse. “Can I…touch you?”

Mycroft only moaned in response – he clearly had not thought this through. His reasoning had been sound – thicker fingers obviously better to prepare his body for that enormous dildo, but Gregory’s touch, Gregory’s fingers…Mutely, he fumbled for the lube and passed it under his body to Gregory.

The first touch was tentative, a press against the back of his balls, slick sliding up across his perineum. Mycroft braced himself for the slide to continue up, perhaps skirting the edges of his muscle, but Greg dipped inside instead. They both gasped as his finger sank into Mycroft – far easier than Gregory imagined, far thicker than Mycroft dared dream.

“Yes,” Mycroft moaned, his hand pressing to Gregory’s, holding him there. “Don’t go…”

Gregory groaned again and started moving, tiny circles inside Mycroft. His fingers weren’t as long, though he was close, but Mycroft felt like a single touch and he’d explode.

“More,” Mycroft said instead. “Please, more…stretch me, Gregory…”

“You’re gonna make me come, begging like that,” Gregory said, his voice strained, but he complied, pressing a second finger against Mycroft, slick and blunt until he breached the muscle, joining the first deep inside.

“Oh, yes, oh God…” Mycroft’s fingers had never stretched him like this. Or perhaps it was Gregory, Mycroft didn’t care.

Gregory’s other hand had slowed on his cock and Mycroft closed his hand around it, squeezing, not wanting to risk stroking himself, wanting the pressure. It was incredible, the difference with someone else, every movement unpredictable but glorious, sending heat through his body, heightening his nerves for the next moment.

Mycroft had no idea how long Greg rocked two fingers into him, kissing his hip and arse, breathing hot panting breaths over his skin. He only knew when another finger – as slick and wide as the first two – began brushing over him outside, gently pressing, asking permission.

“More, please, oh yes Gregory, I need more…” Mycroft babbled, desperate now that Gregory had offered, groaning at the very hint of it dipping into his entrance.

“Just tell me if…Christ,” Gregory gasped as Mycroft rocked backwards, taking the extra width through the first ring of muscle, groaning as the burn spread through him.

“Wait,” Mycroft gasped, stopping, willing his body to relax around the intrusion, reaching for the pleasure again, stroking his cock, hard and firm. When he felt the pleasure rise above the discomfort he slowed his hand, clutching for Gregory’s knee.

“More,” Mycroft gasped. “Slow…but please, more…”

The sensation was remarkable, more than he thought possible. He was full, stretched out without exception, every tiny motion of Greg’s hand reverberating through his body. He shuddered as a knuckle widened him even further before popping in, sending a wave of pleasure through him again.

“Oh God, that’s gorgeous,” Gregory’s voice was low and desperate again, talking as though to himself. “I can see you stretching around me, around my fingers…so wide, so good taking me in, Christ…”

His fingers were moving out again now, pulling out before thrusting slowly again. Mycroft rode the waves of pleasure as knuckles pushed through, and Gregory used them, widening Mycroft, easing the muscle at his entrance.

Another unknown period of time with words praising him, telling him how gorgeous he looked, how much Gregory liked seeing him stretched wide open. Gregory avoiding his prostate, keeping him drifting on the pleasure rolling through him.

“Mycroft,” Gregory’s voice came again, not praising but asking. “Mycroft, do you want…what do you want…tell me…”

It was a struggle to bring himself back, to understand what Gregory was asking. His breath caught as he realised…

“Yes,” Mycroft said hoarsely. He grasped at the pillow beside him until his fingers clasped the box Gregory had brought in earlier. “Yes, please…”

 

+++

 

“Alright, alright…” Greg soothed. He was barely able to keep himself together, knowing he’d been babbling nonsense, entranced by the sight of his own fingers breaching Mycroft, stretching him wider as they plunged inwards, feeling the tight heat enclose him.

Christ it was _hot_. His cock throbbed but Greg had a greater goal. He wasn’t going to miss watching this for anything.

Drawing a shaking breath, Greg pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s hip, gently withdrawing his fingers, massaging Mycroft’s entrance to ease the discomfort.

“You’re doing so well,” Greg told him, reaching for the box, fumbling to open it with one hand, the other rubbing circles on Mycroft’s skin. “Here, lie down a second,” he said, needing two hands.

Abandoning the box for a moment, Greg helped Mycroft lie down, shaking limbs resting. Carefully he helped Mycroft take the egg of the end of his cock, shivering at the stimulation. He watched for a moment, brushing a lock of hair off Mycroft’s face.

“Gregory,” Mycroft groaned, his voice still desperate.

“Shit, yeah, sorry,” Greg replied. He turned back, opening the box, the size of the dildo a shock. Holding it here it was huge. Doubts rose in his mind. Was Mycroft really wanting to…

“Please.” Mycroft’s voice whispered.

Greg looked over to see Mycroft’s eyes on him, wide at the sight of the dildo but steady.

_Christ almighty…_

“Okay,” Greg said automatically. He should wash this before they used it, but what the hell. Reaching a shaking hand for the lube he coated the dildo, realising as he grasped it in his fist it was actually about the same size as himself, perhaps a little thicker. Maybe the purple just made it look bigger, he thought wildly.

“How do you want to…” he asked, looking at the suction cap. He hadn’t really thought about how he’d planned on doing it, other than the few porn clips he’d seen.

Mycroft had stilled, his breathing still fast, body shivering. Now he blinked up at Greg, processing the question. “I don’t know,” he replied. “How…how were you going to…”

“Hadn’t thought that far,” Greg said with a breathless grin. “I saw a couple of videos…” he glanced at the headboard. “Could stick it to the headboard here. Or on the floor if you want.”

Mycroft blinked and Greg could almost hear him thinking. Slowly, he sat up and to Greg’s astonishment, took the dildo in one hand as though testing its girth.

“Headboard,” he said, hand still wrapped around it.

“Right,” Greg said, swallowing down a shot of arousal. Christ, this man would be the death of him.

He turned and rubbed a lubed finger on the suction cap, glancing at the level of Mycroft’s hips before pressing it to the smooth wood. “We’ll see if this works,” he said, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. “We can always move it if it’s the wrong height.”

Mycroft nodded, swallowing. He picked up the lube, pumping a generous amount onto two fingers. His eyes never left Greg’s as he reached behind himself, pressing as much inside himself as he could.

“Fuck me up,” Greg whispered, watching Mycroft. His face was totally open now, the careful mask from earlier gone, his face broadcasting every emotion and thought. Greg could see the battle for his control and without thinking he leaned over, pumping lube onto his own fingers and reaching around Mycroft’s body. Holding Mycroft’s eyes, he followed the slender wrist, pressing the tips of his own fingers inside with Mycroft’s.

Astonishment and arousal flared together and Mycroft surged forward, kissing hard, thrusting his tongue into Greg’s mouth even as he tangled his fingers with Greg’s.

“Fuck,” Greg gasped when the kiss broke.

 

+++

 

“Yes,” Mycroft agreed, his head reeling. Every nerve end was on fire, his cock sensitive as it brushed against Gregory’s belly, his entrance throbbing with the stretch and burn of Gregory’s fingers, the fingers currently tangled with his own, inside his body.

He stared for a second at the purple cock now hanging from his headboard. It had felt huge in his hand, far larger than his own girth; he’d almost reached for Gregory’s cock to compare, but refrained. He wanted to do this.

He wanted to show this to Gregory.

Swallowing hard, Mycroft turned, lining his heels up with the cock, feeling it brush the backs of his thighs.

“Help me?” he said, hearing the question in his voice. “You can see.”

Gregory nodded, and Mycroft saw his hand shake as he reached out to grip the cock by the middle of the shaft. “I’ll hold it steady,” he said. “You move. As much as you want.”

Mycroft nodded, rocking back on his heels until he felt the touch, pliable and coolagainst his entrance. Slick and rounded, it nestled in the dip made by his relaxed muscle. He rolled his hips tentatively, feeling the width pressing around him, tempted to push back but a little unsure. The doubt was unsettling and he delayed a little, rolling his hips and biting his lip.

“We can stop,” Gregory said quietly, his free hand on Mycroft’s lower back. “We can…”

“Talk to me,” Mycroft said without moving. “Tell me…talk to me.”

Gregory was quiet for a moment, and Mycroft wondered if he’d asked too much. Then, gloriously he began to speak.

“You look beautiful,” Gregory said, his voice thick with emotion and control. “All lined up, open and ready, this purple cock waiting for you, if you want it.”

Mycroft groaned, Gregory’s words flushing his doubt away in a flood of want. He wanted to _show_ Gregory.

“It’s so big, Mycroft, so much, if you want it.”

 _Oh God yes…_ Mycroft pressed back, tentatively, feeling the beginning of the stretch as he let the tip breach him.

“Or you can have my fingers, or my cock, anything you want. You look so good stretched out, skin wide and tight around anything.”

Mycroft groaned at the suggestions. He knew one of those was bigger than the rest, huge, capable of splitting him in two so Gregory could watch. Gregory would feel amazing inside him but he wouldn’t be able to watch the same, to tell him how well he was doing…

“Anything that pushes into you…you can rock back now, if you want, or you can choose something else, something to spread inside you…”

 _Show him…_ Panting, Mycroft pressed backward, the flare of the silicone head opening him, wider than he thought possible, pressing at the loose muscle, coaxing it bigger, wider…He gasped, rolling forward again, easing the pressure. He wanted it still, wanted it to be inside him, wanted to hear Gregory be proud of him.

Groaning, Mycroft rocked his hips backwards again, feeling it stretch him, spread him, the blood pulsing in his ears as the flare opened him up.

“You’re almost there, so wide, doing so well Mycroft,” Gregory’s voice was strained now, and almost in awe; Mycroft could hear the encouragement, the press of his fingers in his lower back. Knowing the burn would ease once the widest part was inside him Mycroft persisted, pushing backwards. Just as he thought it was too much he felt the head pop through, the muscle relenting but still stretched, wider than it had ever been around the girth of the dildo.

“Oh my God, that’s so beautiful, you’re gorgeous, so wonderful, Christ, Mycroft…” Gregory’s babble came through the pounding blood in his ears, rushing pleasure through him, smoothing out the jagged edges biting into his flesh, helping him breath through it as he sat still, pressing the heels of his hands into the mattress, pleasure and pain fighting in his veins.

“Gregory,” Mycroft gasped, reaching for him. He felt the hand leave his back, grasping his fingers instead, so tight it hurt, exactly as he wanted. He needed it, grounding him so he could not split apart into atoms and energy from the incredible sensations tearing at him.

“I want to…can I touch you…” Gregory asked. “Touch you there…please…”

Mycroft had no idea where he meant but could not imagine refusing this man anything. “Yes, touch me, anywhere, please. Please,” he begged.

Despite his assurance he felt himself tense, waiting for the touch…and when it came it was feather-light, rubbing tentatively around his stretched skin, making him flinch, clench around the width inside him, groan aloud.

“God, yes,” Gregory breathed, finger gentle. “You are so tight, Mycroft…pink and perfect and so, so wide around this, it’s beautiful…”

Mycroft couldn’t speak, a moan all the noise he could summon; it was beyond his control now, his voice.

And when he thought it could get no more, that his heart and mind could not cope with another single thread of arousal…

Gregory kissed his hip, mouth hot and wet and wide. And the curve of his arse, the mouth trailing across hot skin, uneven breathing raising goose-bumps on the wetness, cold against the heat. It moved, closer, teasing without mercy, neither stopping nor speeding up until he reached his goal…tongue licking along the very top of Mycroft’s arse, and lower again until hot breath caressed the stretched skin of his entrance.

“You taste incredible,” Gregory breathed. His tongue reached out again, licking along the place where Mycroft’s body parted to allow the purple silicone inside him, and this was the moment, the final caress that sent Mycroft over the edge.

He exploded, only his grip on Gregory’s hand still grounding him, as it had before. Every muscle in his body tensed as he came, harder and stronger than ever, the clench of his arse around the dildo ramping his orgasm into the stratosphere. His throat hurt, though what noise he made he could not say; waves and waves of white bliss pulled him apart once and again until his arms shook with the weight of his body.

“I’ve got you, oh that was beautiful, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Gregory’s voice eased through, his other hand on Mycroft’s hip as he shifted Mycroft forward, the width of the dildo stretching him again as it sought to exit his body. He groaned, the aftershocks fading, becoming too much. He felt his arms and legs shaking, the pain as his body stretched one last time increasing.

“Bear down love, easier to do this now, come on,” Gregory soothed.

Whimpering, Mycroft followed his direction, the relief as his body finally released the dildo coursing through him.

“Well done,” Gregory said, helping Mycroft avoid the mess. Mycroft felt a hand on his forehead, brushing hair away. He hummed contentedly, the bliss in his veins too heavy to allow him to do anything else.

 

+++

 

Greg looked at the exhausted man before him, his brain hardly believing what had just happened. He’d just seen…and heard…and licked…

He shuddered, arousal still strong in his veins, cock still standing out from his body, weeping and ignored. It was protesting hard now, and with Mycroft sated finally, he could take himself in hand, quite literally.

With a groan, he did just that, his fist wrapping around himself familiarly. “Mycroft,” he groaned, watching the man before him, thinking about what they’d just done as his fist flew over his swollen flesh.

“Gregory,” he heard, his name whispered. His eyes flew up to Mycroft’s face – watching alert.

Aroused.

“Come for me,” Mycroft whispered. “Show me.”

It was enough. Enough to send him over the edge, adding his own ropes of come to the mess made by Mycroft. He felt it pulling through his body, the arousal splintering his body into atoms to be split…

Mycroft’s hand grabbed at his, squeezing too tight, grounding him, holding him to the Earth.

Greg gripped back, riding the crest until it subsided, leaving him gasping.

“Fuck,” he managed. Carefully, allowing for his wobbly limbs, he lay down behind Mycroft, one arm slung over his waist.

“Alright?” he asked when speech and thought had come back to him. For a long moment he wondered if Mycroft had fallen asleep.

“Yes,” came the response finally. “I believe I am.”

"Certainly a better experience than I thought I'd be having with these," Greg said, still a little breathless.

"And I," Mycroft agreed.

“Excellent,” Greg replied, planting a grinning kiss to Mycroft’s neck. They lay together as their heartbeats eased back to normal.

When the sweat on his skin began to cool past comfortable, Greg stirred.

“We should get dressed,” he murmured. “Probably have a shower.”

“Change the sheets, certainly,” Mycroft replied.

Greg grinned again, sitting up. He watched Mycroft with amusement and empathy, wincing with him as he felt the aftereffects of their activities.

“Gonna be sore for a few days,” Greg murmured.

“Yes, I believe so,” Mycroft replied, wincing again. “I am fairly sure it was worth the discomfort.”

Greg grinned, his heart expanding at the look Mycroft returned to him. It was full of promise, of the future. For a long moment he revelled in it before clearing his throat.

“Glad you thought so. Might have to try it again, perhaps.”

“Oh certainly,” Mycroft replied. “We do have a whole table of things to explore, if memory serves.”

 


End file.
